Here We Go
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Jane and Kurt go undercover. "Two people can still be a team." For 1x09.


**Title:** _Here We Go_ (1/1)

 **Fandom:** _Blindspot,_ AU for 1x09

 **Rating:** PG/PG-13

 **Pairing:** Jane Doe/Kurt Weller

 **Summary** : "Two people can still be a team."

A random drabble written in the wake of that beautiful Asia promo (you know, the one with the handholding and the looks and the rings and the jealous!Kurt and the _marriage_ ).

 **A/N:** Something to tide you all over until Monday. Happy Friday!

. . .

She still isn't speaking to him when they trade the helicopter for the sedan, and head further up the mountain towards the villa. It would be one thing if she was just still scared from the chopper ride, but she hasn't said anything since they left the FBI in New York, except the occasional "Please" and "Thank you" to those that have helped them along the way, and it's making him nervous now. They've been traveling for nearly three hours, and she's barely said a word to him, barely looked at him. In less than twenty minutes, they'll have arrived, and there will be no excuse for her to be quiet and indifferent towards him once they get there.

He glances at the driver as they get in, sitting in the front seat before them, and is relieved to find he vaguely recognizes the face that catches his eye in the rearview mirror. He's one of theirs. So they'll have a few minutes here, to be themselves still.

He leans over the empty middle seat between them, lays a hand on her arm to capture her attention. She jumps at his touch, and he privately hopes she'll be able to get over that _and_ the flying by the time they reach the party.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asks solicitously, half-preparing, half-genuine. It's been a good while since he's had to play the husband, and he'd be lying if he said that he, too, isn't nervous. But at least the concern comes easy with Jane. It won't be something that he'll have to fake along with the rest.

She meets his eye for only a brief second. "Fine," she gets out, lipsticked lips pressed close together even as she speaks. "I'll be fine, Kurt."

He tilts his head to the side. "James," he corrects softly.

She closes her eyes, blows out a heavy breath. "Right." _Pull yourself together,_ a voice in her head whispers. She almost smiles; it's starting to sound like Kurt. Or James. Or whoever he's supposed to be at this moment, in between mission points. "Right."

"Slips aren't good," he reminds her.

"Yes, I know." She nods curtly, trying to focus, trying to remember all that they've planned and practiced. It's hard when he's still looking at her so intently. Judging her. Looking for weaknesses in the cover. "I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He reaches out, takes her hand in his. Drawn from her lap, it rests in his, on the bare middle seat between them. It's a thin, tenuous tie. But it's there.

"I didn't ask you to apologize," he says, turning his head to catch her eye, only to watch her look away, out the window.

His hands shifts in hers, so their fingers are interwoven. "Jane, I'm here to back you up, okay? Just like any other mission. We're a team."

We're wearing _rings_! she wants to shout, but she knows that wouldn't be appropriate, or relevant. What do rings matter? They're just a different kind of armor, a different kind of costume. Just like the ridiculous full-body dress she's wearing to cover her tattoos and the neat tux he's got on. All part of the cover.

"It's just the two of us," she manages to get out, her voice somehow still level, despite the fear that's steadily been invading her since they left New York and is now threatening to overcome her. This will be their first mission without Reade and Zapata beside them, without Patterson in their ears, and she doesn't feel comfortable like this. She's grown to trust them all immensely in these last couple of months, and without them by her side, she feels vulnerable. She feels like a target. "Just two, only two of us."

Kurt smiles a little, and squeezes her hand gently. "Two people can still be a team."

"It's different," she says. It's the most she can say. She has suddenly become very aware of the way his wedding ring feels against her skin.

But he's looking at her still, and he's nodding slowly now, and she thinks maybe he understands the little that she can say. "It is," he allows quietly. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"We can still make it work, you and I."

He watches hope enter her eyes, watches it flicker. "Do you really believe that?" she asks.

He nods solemnly, and he's about to open his mouth to reassure her when he sees that look in her eyes once more. The worry. The anxiety. He knows mere words aren't what she needs right now. She needs something more.

And she wants something more, too, he can see it in the way she looks at him. In the way her eyes have stopped avoiding his, but have started to stare right back, almost like a dare.

He smiles to himself for a second before he makes up his mind. He truly hopes he's right about this.

With her still staring at him, with their hands still entwined, he leans forward and presses a light kiss to her cheek. When his beard brushes her chin, she shivers involuntarily, and he can't stop himself from smiling.

"I trust you to take care of me, Jane," he tells her, serious again as he pulls back. "I trust you with my life, I hope you know that."

"I do," she answers. She's relieved she doesn't stutter. She can still hear her heart, beating a little too fast behind her ribs.

"Well?" He raises his eyebrows. "Don't you trust me too?"

"Of course," she replies at once, a furrow appearing on her forehead as if she's insulted at the implication that she might not. "Of course I trust you, Kurt."

He doesn't correct her use of his name this time. He just stares at her in silence for a minute, a smile playing across his lips.

"What?" she finally asks, exasperated.

"You're blushing," he notes, and she can hear the amusement, the pride, in his voice. "I didn't know you blushed."

"Well, you really wouldn't have had an opportunity to find out these last few weeks, would you have? It isn't like I've been doing anything to blush about." The words come out colder than she'd intended, and she can see the shock spreading across his face, the confusion, so she quickly shakes her head to dispel the mood, the questions. "Doesn't matter," she whispers. "We're supposed to be newlyweds anyway, right? Blushing comes with the territory."

He nods, and flashes that boyish grin of his. "It's only been a couple weeks so far. I figure the honeymoon phase can still be upon us, even at a clandestine arms deal in the middle of nowhere."

And she can't help it—despite her nerves, despite him—she smiles, too. A little laugh even escapes. And before she knows what she's doing, she's leaning to the side and resting her head against his shoulder.

She feels him tense for just a second beneath her when they touch, before he relaxes and, sighing softly, wraps an arm around her back to hug her side. They sit like that for a few minutes, minds both racing, heads both going through contingency plans. They've been preparing for this mission for a while.

"Just don't let me screw this up," she whispers finally. "Whatever happens, just please don't let me ruin this."

He closes his eyes, presses his cheek against the side of her head. When he inhales, he fills with her, just for a moment. "You aren't going to screw anything up. I promise, Jane."

She opens her mouth to correct him—Jane isn't her name in this instance—but she likes the sound of him saying it too much to actually dissuade him. And the last thing she wants to do is break this moment by mentioning the mission, not with his arm around her and his head resting against hers and their hands, still clasped together, with their thumbs brushing against one another's.

As if all this is normal.

As if they do this every day.

A few minutes later, the driver speaks from the front for the first time. "Two minutes out, sir."

Jane starts to straighten at once, to pull away, to separate them completely, but Kurt keeps her hand in his. She tugs it briefly, just for a second, just to try, but he holds on fast. She tries not to pay too much attention to the relief that flows through her.

"You and me, Jane," Kurt says as the car pulls to a stop, holding both her eyes and her hand intently. "We're a team. We trust each other. We protect each other. Don't we?"

She swallows, doing her best to keep looking at his eyes, to not look over his shoulder at whatever's awaiting them, up here in the middle of nowhere, without backup to save them if things go wrong. "We do," she whispers.

"All right. Then let's go."

When they step out of the car, there's a cadre of dealers and their handlers waiting for them, all men, each seemingly bigger than the last. Jane can feel her stomach go weak in the face of all these people, standing just ten feet from her. She knows there must be more guarding the immense estate looming up before them across the lawn. She and Kurt are woefully outnumbered here. She can fight off one, two, maybe three, if it comes to that. Kurt's probably about the same. But there are at least fifteen people here, waiting for them—not to mention all the others spread out around the property—and if things go south, she knows they won't have a chance in hell of getting out of here alive.

Over the hood of the car, she finds Kurt's eyes, and holds onto them anxiously as he takes his time walking around to her, and the men's, side of the car. There's an easy, self-assured smirk on his face as he saunters around the hood, and she can't tell anymore, what he's faking and what he isn't faking. But at this moment it doesn't exactly seem to matter. She'll take his confidence where she can get it, even if it is just a front. She has none of her own to go on anymore.

When he's close enough, she reaches out, instinctually grappling onto his hand for support. She can feel the metal of the ring Patterson handed him this morning, cool against her suddenly too-warm skin, and she brushes her fingers against it like it's a good luck charm. He squeezes her fingers tight in response.

Without taking even the briefest second to acknowledge the gunrunning mob of people waiting out on the lawn to greet them, Kurt immediately turns his back on all of them to face her. He steps in front of her, so close that his broad shoulders block out all the others behind him, and for a moment as he leans close, it's just the two of them at the cusp of this mountaintop, alone. There aren't going to be any guns or fights or life-or-death decisions. There will just be the two of them together, at least just for this moment.

When he reaches a hand up to stroke the length of her cheek, she closes her eyes, her lips parting and her breath catching somewhere deep in her stomach, because she knows what's coming now. They've talked about this, they've planned for it; but they haven't ever actually practiced it, and in the face of the moment arrived, Jane can feel her nerves take over, panicking. It won't be a shy little kiss on the cheek this time; it won't be a hug like they've shared in the past. James is showy; they both know this. He likes spectacle. And so Jane can feel her heart pounding in her chest, throbbing in anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting, and it seems to take an eternity for him to finally press his lips against hers.

She has seen him in combat and she has seen him in training. She has watched him break down doors and tackle full-grown men to the ground and she has seen him kill people. And yet somehow, seeing all of that, seeing that side of him, has in no way helped to prepare her for the way he kisses her on that mountaintop, in front of all those people.

It's like he wants to devour her; the second his lips meet hers, his mouth is opening to her, and opening hers to him, and she's limp beneath him for a moment, completely blindslided by the ferociousness of the kiss, by the feel of his right hand deep in her short hair, and his left one clutching her lower back, pulling her right up against him. She doesn't know how he's able to translate all of that power and that strength of his into a kiss, but he does, and she's consumed for what feels like a lifetime, until she feels her back hit the side of the car, and she has a moment to breathe, to gasp for air, to assess what's happening. Her mind is going wild, her body sent into overdrive, but she manages to act despite that all. She is not supposed to be limp or passive; that was decided upon long ago. She needs to be proactive, she needs to want him as much as he wants her, because these people know James would never marry someone that couldn't keep up with him. That's the plan and, as it turns out, it isn't so hard to carry out. By instinct, she's already reaching up for him desperately, gripping his shoulders, his cheeks, his back, any part of him that she can pull closer and make her own. She runs her hands through his short hair, and hooks her fingers behind his ears to fasten his mouth, his body, _him,_ to her. The kiss goes on for longer than she can imagine, almost longer than she can comprehend, but she never stops or pushes him away or falters in any way.

However, there must have been a cough from the group behind them, or maybe an impatient throat-clearing, because suddenly her lips are alone without his, and the kiss is over, and he's turning his head to finally address the men clustered behind him. With his prize still wrapped tightly in his arms and held firmly against his waist, he yells at them all to fuck off and give him one goddamn second with his bride. It's deadly silent on the lawn for what feels like forever after he speaks. Even Jane is frozen in fear, and in shock, for she's never heard him swear before, not in all the time they've spent together, not in all the dire situations they've been in. But then he laughs out loud, grinning widely like it's all a joke, and the others follow suit, smirking and chuckling and eyeing her appreciatively from around his back. The grin he wears with them is different from the one she's used to seeing on his face; it's darker, more dangerous. Wild. Scary, even. This grin, she knows, would eat his regular boyish one alive.

But it falls away the moment he turns back to her. The moment he lays eyes on her again, all of James's dark humor is gone, and his features morph back into Kurt's: a gentle smile playing at the edges of his lips, a tender look in his eyes. He helps her off the car and starts to step away, but even then it's almost as if he can't help himself—and she doesn't know which _he_ she's thinking about anymore—for before he can really turn away, he's reached up to prop up her chin, and after stroking the point of it for a second, he leans forward and kisses her once more. This time his mouth is very gentle against hers, almost chaste, and she can taste Kurt in it; she can taste him all over it. If this kiss is meant to be an apology for the earlier one, she wants to tell him that there's no apology necessary. He can kiss her just like that first time as often as he'd like. And he can kiss her like this, too, if he feels so inclined.

Cupping a hand around the back of her neck, he carefully strokes the pad of his thumb lightly against the pale expanse of skin beneath her left ear, where they both know the bird tattoo hibernates beneath layers of makeup. He's careful not to disrupt its covering. Bending to her ear, he speaks low enough so that no one else has a chance of hearing and whispers, "Don't worry, okay? I know you can do this, Jane."

And in that moment, as he holds her after making her his, she doesn't care who he is, or what his motives are. She doesn't care if he's playing to the cover, if he's James, showing off his new wife to his business associates, dangling her in front of them simply because he can, because he likes to see the looks on their faces as they watch, all of them knowing he has something they'll never get to touch—not with all their money, not with all their guns; not if he has anything to say about it. Regardless of who he is, who he's playing, he's still doing it all with _her_ ; it's still her lips he's kissing and her hand he's holding and her eyes that he can't seem to look away from. It's still _her_ that he's taking the time to reassure, even in the middle of what could've easily become a gunfight.

 _I know you can do this, Jane._

She squeezes his hand tight, holding it against her, holding him to her, for just a second more. "Maybe I can," she agrees quietly, finding his eyes, so close to hers still. In a flash of inspiration, as unscripted as his second, gentle kiss, she lifts his left hand to her mouth, and presses a firm kiss to his wedding band. "But only so long as you stay with me. Okay?"

She catches a flash of a smile, _his_ smile, right before he turns away. Taking her hand and pulling her with him, they move together across the lawn to face their marks, a two-person team completely in sync.

. . .

 **A/N:** Originally there wasn't supposed to be a kiss. But I couldn't help myself. XD

Thank you for reading; reviews would be appreciated! Here's to Monday!


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